Spare Brides by Adele Parks Page A

prove fruitful. But their father had died when Beatrice was seventeen and the family fortune, such as it was, passed to Samuel. No one could have expected him to put a younger sister through university; he had his own family to provide for. All the same, Sarah was certain that Bea might have done well there. She was by no means slow. Her current conversation was only limited by lack of experiences; reading the newspapers regularly wasn’t enough. Still, there was no point in dwelling.
    Sarah’s assumption that Bea was riddled with weight and fashion insecurities proved to be correct. In a desperate attempt to quickly reduce herself, Beatrice had eaten nothing other than grapefruit for three days now. Yet an honest look in the mirror forced her to admit that nonetheless she still had wobbly flesh on her arms and belly, her thighs remained puckered and her bottom continued to sag. In addition, she admitted to terrible acidic cramps in her stomach, and her nephews’ vulgar comments made it impossible to ignore her embarrassing wind.
    ‘What were you thinking?’ Sarah asked.
    ‘I thought perhaps if I lost weight I might be able to squeeze into something of Cecily’s.’
    ‘The skirts would be daringly short, wouldn’t they?’ commented Sarah. Bea towered several inches above any other woman they knew.
    In the end, Bea borrowed a sequinned evening cap and an adorable bag, decorated with fine wool petit point. Such joy and gaiety in the brilliant design of two mythological birds! The bag was lined with aqua silk and inside there were two pockets that held a matching change purse and silk-backed mirror. The bag closed with a jewelled
cloisonné
clasp and had a linked chain handle. Beatrice commented that she hoped it was dazzling enough to draw attention from her old and endlessly altered dresses. She fingered the bag repeatedly, as though she was playing with a lover’s hair. Sarah found it hard to believe that she too used to feel such ecstatic entrancement about bags, dresses, dances and shoes. She had persuaded her sister to be bold and splash out on a pair of new evening shoes. ‘Shoddy shoes are a complete giveaway.’ Inspired by Lydia’s terrific fresh hairstyle, Bea had also chosen to take the plunge and have her own chopped. The effect was modern, but not flattering. Her wiry, fiery locks sprung up off her head, and it was almost impossible to get a cloche to sit straight on the springy coils.
    Sarah’s other concern on Bea’s behalf was that Ava might not be a perfect hostess. She didn’t doubt there would be hot-water bottles in plush covers, writing paper, stamps and port aplenty; she simply feared that in her own home Ava would see no reason to curb her caustic tongue. All of Ava’s friends were so ornamental, with the notable exception of Bea. Bea would need to gird her heart against the possibility of countless sly digs and jokes at her expense. Sarah couldn’t understand why a woman such as Ava, who had it all – beauty, brains, extreme wealth – would be so cruel as to constantly highlight all that Beatrice lacked. It was pitiless.
    Despite her reservations, Sarah was relieved that the weekend got off to a good start. They were a party of thirteen the first night, eight women and five men, including Ava’s parents. The bias in numbers towards the women was notable, but not, Sarah thought, insurmountable. The evening was cheerful and natural; they’d rolled up the rugs, and whilst Sarah had made her excuses before midnight, some, including Bea, had danced until three. By Saturday afternoon Sarah began to relax as she discovered that, rather than degenerating into home manners and being rude or transparent in her impatience with Bea, Ava had upped her game and become considerably more charming and delightful. Sarah suspected that Ava had seen the advantages of surrounding her father with plain or disinterested girls; pretty ones brought with them the shadowy threat of dangerous scandals. Ava had